


Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

by secondforlove (Daenie_grace)



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:53:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daenie_grace/pseuds/secondforlove
Summary: Puppet Smut to make Rhia smile. Read at your own risk.





	Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

Ryan rubbed at his eyes and groaned, his head pounding. Yawning, he pulled the blanket up over his head and rolled his face into his pillow. His mouth felt fuzzy, as if he’d licked felt pieces the night before. Maybe he had. How much did he drink, anyway? He’d lost count somewhere around eleven-thirty. The insistent pressure in his bladder quickly let him know that he wouldn’t be able to sink back into sleep and he sighed, throwing the blankets off of him and sitting up, rubbing at his eyes again. Why did they feel so much like sandpaper?

“Bren,” Ryan said, yawning again. “You awake?” He reached behind him to shake Brendon’s shoulder and was met with an odd softness. He turned to look at the lump in bed next to him and groaned again. “Damnit, Brendon, how many times have I asked you not to leave this creepy fucking puppet laying around?” He flipped the blanket up to cover the puppet’s face and slid out of bed. He would deal with that later, when he found Brendon and kicked his ass. After this many years, he really should be used to all of Brendon’s dickish tricks. Keeping his eyes as closed as he could, he stumbled his way into the bathroom to take care of his business, but when he reached the toilet he found it to be much higher than he remembered. He opened his eyes and stared at the toilet, blinking as he tried to figure out how Brendon had possibly made the toilet bigger while he had been asleep.

“Ryan!” Brendon’s voice came loudly from the bedroom and Ryan clutched at his head. “Why the fuck did you throw all this shit on me?” Ryan turned around and walked out into the bathroom, grumbling to himself.

“I didn’t throw any thing on you, I covered up your stupid-” Ryan caught sight of himself in the full length mirror and stopped in his tracks. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and ground his fists into his eyes, furiously rubbing at them to clear the sleep from them. When he opened them, he looked the same. He pinched himself. He had to be dreaming. He pinched himself again, hard enough to bruise. Brendon, who had come into the bathroom, wrapped an arm around him and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Stop bruising yourself, only I can do that,” Brendon whispered into his ear with a smirk and Ryan slapped himself, blinking at the reflection in the mirror.

“Why am I a FUCKING CREEPY ASS PUPPET?” Ryan asked, spinning on his heels to where Brendon had disappeared into the small water closet that held the toilet. The asshole was not only somehow playing the biggest prank ever, but he’d also stolen the toilet first. “Brendon! What the hell?”

“You’ve always been a puppet baby, I don’t know why you’re freaking out,” Brendon said, flushing the toilet and coming out to wash his hands. “How much did you drink last night, anyway?”

“That’s exactly what I’d like to know,” Ryan grumbled, wandering back to the toilet and finally relieving the pressure on his bladder. “This has to be some kind of fucked up dream,” he said, flushing and coming back out to where Brendon was brushing his teeth. He pushed Brendon out of the way and began to wash his hands. “I don’t even like puppets. This has to be an acid dream.”

Brendon arched an eyebrow at him and pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, licking the toothpaste off his lips. “You haven’t done acid since we were at the cabin,” he said around the mouth full of toothpaste. He pushed Ryan back out of the way and spit.

“It stays in your spinal fluid for life.” Ryan put toothpaste onto his toothbrush and stared at Brendon. Or Beebo. Whatever. The creepy puppet that was calmly brushing his teeth in the bathroom Ryan and Brendon had been sharing for the last five years. “I told you that taking acid in the cabin was a terrible idea. I knew it was going to give me a bad trip.”

“You’re not tripping,” Brendon mumbled around his toothbrush and rolled his eyes, pressing his palm to Ryan’s forehead. His hand felt warm and Ryan’s eyes closed as he leaned into the touch that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Ryan opened his eyes to see Brendon spitting again and filling his rinse cup. “You don’t have a fever,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and swishing the water around in his mouth. Ryan just stared at him, his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. How was Brendon so calm about the fact that they’d somehow turned into puppets while they were sleeping. Brendon had literally possessed his stage prop and gave zero fucks. Brendon spit the water into the sink, splashed water into his face and began his skin care routine. “Maybe you’re just really hung over.”

Ryan blinked his eyes at Brendon and sighed, his shoulders drooping. He went back to brushing his teeth. If Brendon could be so nonchalant about this, then Ryan supposed he could try to play along. This dream would end soon anyway. It had to, right? He couldn’t be stuck in this puppet nightmare forever, could he? Brendon’s skin care routine had always taken way too long, so Ryan hastily finished brushing his teeth and stripped off the clothes he’d passed out in. He obviously had been pretty intoxicated the night before, since he hadn’t bothered to take off more than his jacket, pants and shoes. He hated to sleep in his street clothes. Ryan stepped into the shower, cranking the knob all the way left, as hot as it would go and gasped quietly at the burst of cold that came out to hit him in the face. Knowing it would heat up soon, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the tile, letting the water cascade over his back. The water hitting his neck was making his head feel better, at least. With a sigh, he stood up straight, reached for the shampoo and began to massage it into his rat’s nest of greasy hair. There had to have been more than alcohol going on the previous night- he felt dirty, disgusting and sore, and if he was honest with himself, his temporary memory loss was a little concerning. He heard the click of the shower door behind him, a draft of cold air and Brendon’s warm body press against his back as arms wound around his waist. Lips trailed up his shoulder and he turned in Brendon’s arms, tipping his head back to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. This he was used to. Brendon had always been problematic when it came to personal space and had routinely made himself comfortable in the shower with Ryan, even as a teenager. After so many years of dating, this was easy, practiced- a daily dance in the two of them getting clean without anyone getting soap in their eyes. Ryan felt lips press soft and slow to his and he leaned into the kiss, backing Brendon up to the wall, his hands falling to rest on his boyfriends hips.

“You know the best cure for a hangover?” Brendon asked, his breath ghosting over Ryan’s lips as he pulled back just enough to rub his nose along Ryan’s and nip at his bottom lip. Ryan leaned into Brendon, his lips finding Brendon’s earlobe.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me,” he murmured as he took Brendon’s earlobe into his mouth and sucked slowly. He took a step into Brendon, brushing their hips together and grinning at the groan that slipped through Brendon’s lips. Brendon had always been such an easy to manipulate bottom, slipping into his role with hardly any prompting.

“Blow jobs,” Brendon said, his head coming to rest against Ryan’s neck as he pressed his hips forward. “Blow jobs cure hangovers.” Ryan grinned and stepped away, dropping all contact with Brendon and maneuvering until he was leaning against the back wall of the shower.

“Then get on your knees.”


End file.
